I don't know if you have had the same experience, but the snag I alwayscome up against when I'm telling a story is this dashed difficult problemof where to begin it. It's a thing you don't want to go wrong over,because one false step and you're sunk. I mean, if you fool about toolong at the start, trying to establish atmosphere, as they call it, andall that sort of rot, you fail to grip and the customers walk out on you.

Get off the mark, on the other hand, like a scalded cat, and your publicis at a loss. It simply raises its eyebrows, and can't make out whatyou're talking about.

And in opening my report of the complex case of Gussie Fink-Nottle,Madeline Bassett, my Cousin Angela, my Aunt Dahlia, my Uncle Thomas,young Tuppy Glossop and the cook, Anatole, with the above spot ofdialogue, I see that I have made the second of these two floaters.

I shall have to hark back a bit. And taking it for all in all andweighing this against that, I suppose the affair may be said to have hadits inception, if inception is the word I want, with that visit of mineto Cannes. If I hadn't gone to Cannes, I shouldn't have met the Bassettor bought that white mess jacket, and Angela wouldn't have met her shark,and Aunt Dahlia wouldn't have played baccarat.

Yes, most decidedly, Cannes was the _point d'appui._

Right ho, then. Let me marshal my facts.

I went to Cannes--leaving Jeeves behind, he having intimated that he didnot wish to miss Ascot--round about the beginning of June. With metravelled my Aunt Dahlia and her daughter Angela. Tuppy Glossop, Angela'sbetrothed, was to have been of the party, but at the last moment couldn'tget away. Uncle Tom, Aunt Dahlia's husband, remained at home, because hecan't stick the South of France at any price.

So there you have the layout--Aunt Dahlia, Cousin Angela and self off toCannes round about the beginning of June.

All pretty clear so far, what?

We stayed at Cannes about two months, and except for the fact that AuntDahlia lost her shirt at baccarat and Angela nearly got inhaled by ashark while aquaplaning, a pleasant time was had by all.

On July the twenty-fifth, looking bronzed and fit, I accompanied aunt andchild back to London. At seven p.m. on July the twenty-sixth we alightedat Victoria. And at seven-twenty or thereabouts we parted with mutualexpressions of esteem--they to shove off in Aunt Dahlia's car to BrinkleyCourt, her place in Worcestershire, where they were expecting toentertain Tuppy in a day or two; I to go to the flat, drop my luggage,clean up a bit, and put on the soup and fish preparatory to pushing roundto the Drones for a bite of dinner.

And it was while I was at the flat, towelling the torso after amuch-needed rinse, that Jeeves, as we chatted of this and that--pickingup the threads, as it were--suddenly brought the name of GussieFink-Nottle into the conversation.

As I recall it, the dialogue ran something as follows:

SELF: Well, Jeeves, here we are, what?

JEEVES: Yes, sir.

SELF: I mean to say, home again.

JEEVES: Precisely, sir.

SELF: Seems ages since I went away.

JEEVES: Yes, sir.

SELF: Have a good time at Ascot?

JEEVES: Most agreeable, sir.

SELF: Win anything?

JEEVES: Quite a satisfactory sum, thank you, sir.

SELF: Good. Well, Jeeves, what news on the Rialto? Anybody been phoningor calling or anything during my abs.?

JEEVES: Mr. Fink-Nottle, sir, has been a frequent caller.

I stared. Indeed, it would not be too much to say that I gaped.

"Mr. Fink-Nottle?"

"Yes, sir."

"You don't mean Mr. Fink-Nottle?"

"Yes, sir."

"But Mr. Fink-Nottle's not in London?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I'm blowed."

And I'll tell you why I was blowed. I found it scarcely possible to givecredence to his statement. This Fink-Nottle, you see, was one of thosefreaks you come across from time to time during life's journey who can'tstand London. He lived year in and year out, covered with moss, in aremote village down in Lincolnshire, never coming up even for the Etonand Harrow match. And when I asked him once if he didn't find the timehang a bit heavy on his hands, he said, no, because he had a pond in hisgarden and studied the habits of newts.

I couldn't imagine what could have brought the chap up to the great city.I would have been prepared to bet that as long as the supply of newtsdidn't give out, nothing could have shifted him from that village of his.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir."

"You got the name correctly? Fink-Nottle?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well, it's the most extraordinary thing. It must be five years since hewas in London. He makes no secret of the fact that the place gives himthe pip. Until now, he has always stayed glued to the country, completelysurrounded by newts."

"Sir?"

"Newts, Jeeves. Mr. Fink-Nottle has a strong newt complex. You must haveheard of newts. Those little sort of lizard things that charge about inponds."

"Oh, yes, sir. The aquatic members of the family Salamandridae whichconstitute the genus Molge."

"That's right. Well, Gussie has always been a slave to them. He used tokeep them at school."

"I believe young gentlemen frequently do, sir."

"He kept them in his study in a kind of glass-tank arrangement, andpretty niffy the whole thing was, I recall. I suppose one ought to havebeen able to see what the end would be even then, but you know what boysare. Careless, heedless, busy about our own affairs, we scarcely gavethis kink in Gussie's character a thought. We may have exchanged anoccasional remark about it taking all sorts to make a world, but nothingmore. You can guess the sequel. The trouble spread,"

"Indeed, sir?"

"Absolutely, Jeeves. The craving grew upon him. The newts got him.Arrived at man's estate, he retired to the depths of the country and gavehis life up to these dumb chums. I suppose he used to tell himself thathe could take them or leave them alone, and then found--too late--that hecouldn't."

"It is often the way, sir."

"Too true, Jeeves. At any rate, for the last five years he has beenliving at this place of his down in Lincolnshire, as confirmed aspecies-shunning hermit as ever put fresh water in the tank every secondday and refused to see a soul. That's why I was so amazed when you toldme he had suddenly risen to the surface like this. I still can't believeit. I am inclined to think that there must be some mistake, and thatthis bird who has been calling here is some different variety ofFink-Nottle. The chap I know wears horn-rimmed spectacles and has a facelike a fish. How does that check up with your data?"

"The gentleman who came to the flat wore horn-rimmed spectacles, sir."

"And looked like something on a slab?"

"Possibly there was a certain suggestion of the piscine, sir."

"Then it must be Gussie, I suppose. But what on earth can have broughthim up to London?"

"I am in a position to explain that, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle confided to mehis motive in visiting the metropolis. He came because the young lady ishere."

Then I found my mind turning to another aspect of this rummy affair.Conceding the fact that Gussie Fink-Nottle, against all the ruling of theform book, might have fallen in love, why should he have been haunting myflat like this? No doubt the occasion was one of those when a fellowneeds a friend, but I couldn't see what had made him pick on me.

It wasn't as if he and I were in any way bosom. We had seen a lot of eachother at one time, of course, but in the last two years I hadn't had somuch as a post card from him.

I put all this to Jeeves:

"Odd, his coming to me. Still, if he did, he did. No argument about that.It must have been a nasty jar for the poor perisher when he found Iwasn't here."

"No, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle did not call to see you, sir."

"Pull yourself together, Jeeves. You've just told me that this is what hehas been doing, and assiduously, at that."

"It was I with whom he was desirous of establishing communication, sir."

"You? But I didn't know you had ever met him."

"I had not had that pleasure until he called here, sir. But it appearsthat Mr. Sipperley, a fellow student of whom Mr. Fink-Nottle had been atthe university, recommended him to place his affairs in my hands."

The mystery had conked. I saw all. As I dare say you know, Jeeves'sreputation as a counsellor has long been established among thecognoscenti, and the first move of any of my little circle on discoveringthemselves in any form of soup is always to roll round and put the thingup to him. And when he's got A out of a bad spot, A puts B on to him. Andthen, when he has fixed up B, B sends C along. And so on, if you get mydrift, and so forth.

That's how these big consulting practices like Jeeves's grow. Old Sippy,I knew, had been deeply impressed by the man's efforts on his behalf atthe time when he was trying to get engaged to Elizabeth Moon, so it wasnot to be wondered at that he should have advised Gussie to apply. Pureroutine, you might say.

"Oh, you're acting for him, are you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now I follow. Now I understand. And what is Gussie's trouble?"

"Oddly enough, sir, precisely the same as that of Mr. Sipperley when Iwas enabled to be of assistance to him. No doubt you recall Mr.Sipperley's predicament, sir. Deeply attached to Miss Moon, he sufferedfrom a rooted diffidence which made it impossible for him to speak."

I nodded.

"I remember. Yes, I recall the Sipperley case. He couldn't bring himselfto the scratch. A marked coldness of the feet, was there not? I recollectyou saying he was letting--what was it?--letting something do something.Cats entered into it, if I am not mistaken."

"Letting 'I dare not' wait upon 'I would', sir."

"That's right. But how about the cats?"

"Like the poor cat i' the adage, sir."

"Exactly. It beats me how you think up these things. And Gussie, you say,is in the same posish?"

"Yes, sir. Each time he endeavours to formulate a proposal of marriage,his courage fails him."

"And yet, if he wants this female to be his wife, he's got to say so,what? I mean, only civil to mention it."

"Precisely, sir."

I mused.

"Well, I suppose this was inevitable, Jeeves. I wouldn't have thoughtthat this Fink-Nottle would ever have fallen a victim to the divine _p_,but, if he has, no wonder he finds the going sticky."

"Yes, sir."

"Look at the life he's led."

"Yes, sir."

"I don't suppose he has spoken to a girl for years. What a lesson this isto us, Jeeves, not to shut ourselves up in country houses and stare intoglass tanks. You can't be the dominant male if you do that sort of thing.In this life, you can choose between two courses. You can either shutyourself up in a country house and stare into tanks, or you can be adasher with the sex. You can't do both."

"No, sir."

I mused once more. Gussie and I, as I say, had rather lost touch, but allthe same I was exercised about the poor fish, as I am about all my pals,close or distant, who find themselves treading upon Life's banana skins.It seemed to me that he was up against it.

I threw my mind back to the last time I had seen him. About two yearsago, it had been. I had looked in at his place while on a motor trip, andhe had put me right off my feed by bringing a couple of green things withlegs to the luncheon table, crooning over them like a young mother andeventually losing one of them in the salad. That picture, rising beforemy eyes, didn't give me much confidence in the unfortunate goof's abilityto woo and win, I must say. Especially if the girl he had earmarked wasone of these tough modern thugs, all lipstick and cool, hard, sardoniceyes, as she probably was.

"Tell me, Jeeves," I said, wishing to know the worst, "what sort of agirl is this girl of Gussie's?"

"I have not met the young lady, sir. Mr. Fink-Nottle speaks highly of herattractions."

"Seemed to like her, did he?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did he mention her name? Perhaps I know her."

"She is a Miss Bassett, sir. Miss Madeline Bassett."

"What?"

"Yes, sir."

I was deeply intrigued.

"Egad, Jeeves! Fancy that. It's a small world, isn't it, what?"

"The young lady is an acquaintance of yours, sir?"

"I know her well. Your news has relieved my mind, Jeeves. It makes thewhole thing begin to seem far more like a practical working proposition."

"Indeed, sir?"

"Absolutely. I confess that until you supplied this information I wasfeeling profoundly dubious about poor old Gussie's chances of inducingany spinster of any parish to join him in the saunter down the aisle. Youwill agree with me that he is not everybody's money."

"There may be something in what you say, sir."

"Cleopatra wouldn't have liked him."

"Possibly not, sir."

"And I doubt if he would go any too well with Tallulah Bankhead."

"No, sir."

"But when you tell me that the object of his affections is Miss Bassett,why, then, Jeeves, hope begins to dawn a bit. He's just the sort of chapa girl like Madeline Bassett might scoop in with relish."

This Bassett, I must explain, had been a fellow visitor of ours atCannes; and as she and Angela had struck up one of those effervescentfriendships which girls do strike up, I had seen quite a bit of her.Indeed, in my moodier moments it sometimes seemed to me that I could notmove a step without stubbing my toe on the woman.

And what made it all so painful and distressing was that the more we met,the less did I seem able to find to say to her.

You know how it is with some girls. They seem to take the stuffing rightout of you. I mean to say, there is something about their personalitythat paralyses the vocal cords and reduces the contents of the brain tocauliflower. It was like that with this Bassett and me; so much so that Ihave known occasions when for minutes at a stretch Bertram Wooster mighthave been observed fumbling with the tie, shuffling the feet, andbehaving in all other respects in her presence like the complete dumbbrick. When, therefore, she took her departure some two weeks before wedid, you may readily imagine that, in Bertram's opinion, it was not a daytoo soon.

It was not her beauty, mark you, that thus numbed me. She was a prettyenough girl in a droopy, blonde, saucer-eyed way, but not the sort ofbreath-taker that takes the breath.

No, what caused this disintegration in a usually fairly fluent prattlerwith the sex was her whole mental attitude. I don't want to wronganybody, so I won't go so far as to say that she actually wrote poetry,but her conversation, to my mind, was of a nature calculated to excitethe liveliest suspicions. Well, I mean to say, when a girl suddenly asksyou out of a blue sky if you don't sometimes feel that the stars areGod's daisy-chain, you begin to think a bit.

As regards the fusing of her soul and mine, therefore, there was nothingdoing. But with Gussie, the posish was entirely different. The thing thathad stymied me--viz. that this girl was obviously all loaded down withideals and sentiment and what not--was quite in order as far as he wasconcerned.

Gussie had always been one of those dreamy, soulful birds--you can't shutyourself up in the country and live only for newts, if you're not--and Icould see no reason why, if he could somehow be induced to get the low,burning words off his chest, he and the Bassett shouldn't hit it off likeham and eggs.

"She's just the type for him," I said.

"I am most gratified to hear it, sir."

"And he's just the type for her. In fine, a good thing and one to bepushed along with the utmost energy. Strain every nerve, Jeeves."

Now up to this point, as you will doubtless agree, what you might call aperfect harmony had prevailed. Friendly gossip between employer andemployed, and everything as sweet as a nut. But at this juncture, Iregret to say, there was an unpleasant switch. The atmosphere suddenlychanged, the storm clouds began to gather, and before we knew where wewere, the jarring note had come bounding on the scene. I have known thisto happen before in the Wooster home.

The first intimation I had that things were about to hot up was a painedand disapproving cough from the neighbourhood of the carpet. For, duringthe above exchanges, I should explain, while I, having dried the frame,had been dressing in a leisurely manner, donning here a sock, there ashoe, and gradually climbing into the vest, the shirt, the tie, and theknee-length, Jeeves had been down on the lower level, unpacking myeffects.

He now rose, holding a white object. And at the sight of it, I realizedthat another of our domestic crises had arrived, another of thoseunfortunate clashes of will between two strong men, and that Bertram,unless he remembered his fighting ancestors and stood up for his rights,was about to be put upon.

I don't know if you were at Cannes this summer. If you were, you willrecall that anybody with any pretensions to being the life and soul ofthe party was accustomed to attend binges at the Casino in the ordinaryevening-wear trouserings topped to the north by a white mess-jacket withbrass buttons. And ever since I had stepped aboard the Blue Train atCannes station, I had been wondering on and off how mine would go withJeeves.

In the matter of evening costume, you see, Jeeves is hidebound andreactionary. I had had trouble with him before about soft-bosomed shirts.And while these mess-jackets had, as I say, been all the rage--_tout cequ'il y a de chic_--on the Cote d'Azur, I had never concealed it frommyself, even when treading the measure at the Palm Beach Casino in theone I had hastened to buy, that there might be something of an upheavalabout it on my return.

I prepared to be firm.

"Yes, Jeeves?" I said. And though my voice was suave, a close observer ina position to watch my eyes would have noticed a steely glint. Nobody hasa greater respect for Jeeves's intellect than I have, but thisdisposition of his to dictate to the hand that fed him had got, I felt,to be checked. This mess-jacket was very near to my heart, and I jollywell intended to fight for it with all the vim of grand old Sieur deWooster at the Battle of Agincourt.

"Yes, Jeeves?" I said. "Something on your mind, Jeeves?"

"I fear that you inadvertently left Cannes in the possession of a coatbelonging to some other gentleman, sir."

I switched on the steely a bit more.

"No, Jeeves," I said, in a level tone, "the object under advisement ismine. I bought it out there."

"You wore it, sir?"

"Every night."

"But surely you are not proposing to wear it in England, sir?"

I saw that we had arrived at the nub.

"Yes, Jeeves."

"But, sir----"

"You were saying, Jeeves?"

"It is quite unsuitable, sir."

"I do not agree with you, Jeeves. I anticipate a great popular successfor this jacket. It is my intention to spring it on the public tomorrowat Pongo Twistleton's birthday party, where I confidently expect it to beone long scream from start to finish. No argument, Jeeves. No discussion.Whatever fantastic objection you may have taken to it, I wear thisjacket."

"Very good, sir."

He went on with his unpacking. I said no more on the subject. I had wonthe victory, and we Woosters do not triumph over a beaten foe. Presently,having completed my toilet, I bade the man a cheery farewell and ingenerous mood suggested that, as I was dining out, why didn't he take theevening off and go to some improving picture or something. Sort of olivebranch, if you see what I mean.

He didn't seem to think much of it.

"Thank you, sir, I will remain in."

I surveyed him narrowly.

"Is this dudgeon, Jeeves?"

"No, sir, I am obliged to remain on the premises. Mr. Fink-Nottleinformed me he would be calling to see me this evening."

"Oh, Gussie's coming, is he? Well, give him my love."

"Very good, sir."

"Yes, sir."

"And a whisky and soda, and so forth."

"Very good, sir."

"Right ho, Jeeves."

I then set off for the Drones.

At the Drones I ran into Pongo Twistleton, and he talked so much abouthis forthcoming merry-making of his, of which good reports had alreadyreached me through my correspondents, that it was nearing eleven when Igot home again.

And scarcely had I opened the door when I heard voices in thesitting-room, and scarcely had I entered the sitting-room when I foundthat these proceeded from Jeeves and what appeared at first sight to bethe Devil.

A closer scrutiny informed me that it was Gussie Fink-Nottle, dressed asMephistopheles.

-2-

"What-ho, Gussie," I said.

You couldn't have told it from my manner, but I was feeling more than abit nonplussed. The spectacle before me was enough to nonplus anyone. Imean to say, this Fink-Nottle, as I remembered him, was the sort of shy,shrinking goop who might have been expected to shake like an aspen ifinvited to so much as a social Saturday afternoon at the vicarage. Andyet here he was, if one could credit one's senses, about to take part ina fancy-dress ball, a form of entertainment notoriously a testingexperience for the toughest.

And he was attending that fancy-dress ball, mark you--not, like everyother well-bred Englishman, as a Pierrot, but as Mephistopheles--thisinvolving, as I need scarcely stress, not only scarlet tights but apretty frightful false beard.

Rummy, you'll admit. However, one masks one's feelings. I betrayed novulgar astonishment, but, as I say, what-hoed with civil nonchalance.

He grinned through the fungus--rather sheepishly, I thought.

"Oh, hullo, Bertie."

"Long time since I saw you. Have a spot?"

"No, thanks. I must be off in a minute. I just came round to ask Jeeveshow he thought I looked. How do you think I look, Bertie?"

Well, the answer to that, of course, was "perfectly foul". But weWoosters are men of tact and have a nice sense of the obligations of ahost. We do not tell old friends beneath our roof-tree that they are anoffence to the eyesight. I evaded the question.

"I hear you're in London," I said carelessly.

"Oh, yes."

"Must be years since you came up."

"Oh, yes."

"And now you're off for an evening's pleasure."

He shuddered a bit. He had, I noticed, a hunted air.

"Pleasure!"

"Aren't you looking forward to this rout or revel?"

"Oh, I suppose it'll be all right," he said, in a toneless voice."Anyway, I ought to be off, I suppose. The thing starts round abouteleven. I told my cab to wait.... Will you see if it's there, Jeeves?"

"Very good, sir."

There was something of a pause after the door had closed. A certainconstraint. I mixed myself a beaker, while Gussie, a glutton forpunishment, stared at himself in the mirror. Finally I decided that itwould be best to let him know that I was abreast of his affairs. It mightbe that it would ease his mind to confide in a sympathetic man ofexperience. I have generally found, with those under the influence, thatwhat they want more than anything is the listening ear.

"Well, Gussie, old leper," I said, "I've been hearing all about you."

"Eh?"

"This little trouble of yours. Jeeves has told me everything."

He didn't seem any too braced. It's always difficult to be sure, ofcourse, when a chap has dug himself in behind a Mephistopheles beard, butI fancy he flushed a trifle.

"I wish Jeeves wouldn't go gassing all over the place. It was supposed tobe confidential."

I could not permit this tone.

"Dishing up the dirt to the young master can scarcely be described asgassing all over the place," I said, with a touch of rebuke. "Anyway,there it is. I know all. And I should like to begin," I said, sinking mypersonal opinion that the female in question was a sloppy pest in mydesire to buck and encourage, "by saying that Madeline Bassett is acharming girl. A winner, and just the sort for you."

"You don't know her?"

"Certainly I know her. What beats me is how you ever got in touch. Wheredid you meet?"

"She was staying at a place near mine in Lincolnshire the week beforelast."

"Yes, but even so. I didn't know you called on the neighbours."

"I don't. I met her out for a walk with her dog. The dog had got a thornin its foot, and when she tried to take it out, it snapped at her. So, ofcourse, I had to rally round."

"You extracted the thorn?"

"Yes."

"And fell in love at first sight?"

"Yes."

"Well, dash it, with a thing like that to give you a send-off, why didn'tyou cash in immediately?"

"I hadn't the nerve."

"What happened?"

"We talked for a bit."

"What about?"

"Oh, birds."

"Birds? What birds?"

"The birds that happened to be hanging round. And the scenery, and allthat sort of thing. And she said she was going to London, and asked meto look her up if I was ever there."

"And even after that you didn't so much as press her hand?"

"Of course not."

Well, I mean, it looked as though there was no more to be said. If a chapis such a rabbit that he can't get action when he's handed the thing on aplate, his case would appear to be pretty hopeless. Nevertheless, Ireminded myself that this non-starter and I had been at school together.One must make an effort for an old school friend.

"Ah, well," I said, "we must see what can be done. Things may brighten.At any rate, you will be glad to learn that I am behind you in thisenterprise. You have Bertram Wooster in your corner, Gussie."

"Thanks, old man. And Jeeves, of course, which is the thing that reallymatters."

I don't mind admitting that I winced. He meant no harm, I suppose, butI'm bound to say that this tactless speech nettled me not a little.People are always nettling me like that. Giving me to understand, I meanto say, that in their opinion Bertram Wooster is a mere cipher and thatthe only member of the household with brains and resources is Jeeves.

It jars on me.

And tonight it jarred on me more than usual, because I was feeling prettydashed fed with Jeeves. Over that matter of the mess jacket, I mean.True, I had forced him to climb down, quelling him, as described, withthe quiet strength of my personality, but I was still a trifle shirty athis having brought the thing up at all. It seemed to me that what Jeeveswanted was the iron hand.

"And what is he doing about it?" I inquired stiffly.

"He's been giving the position of affairs a lot of thought."

"He has, has he?"

"It's on his advice that I'm going to this dance."

"Why?"

"She is going to be there. In fact, it was she who sent me the ticket ofinvitation. And Jeeves considered----"

"And why not as a Pierrot?" I said, taking up the point which had struckme before. "Why this break with a grand old tradition?"

"He particularly wanted me to go as Mephistopheles."

I started.

"He did, did he? He specifically recommended that definite costume?"

"Yes."

"Ha!"

"Eh?"

"Nothing. Just 'Ha!'"

And I'll tell you why I said "Ha!" Here was Jeeves making heavy weatherabout me wearing a perfectly ordinary white mess jacket, a garment notonly _tout ce qu'il y a de chic_, but absolutely _de rigueur_, and in thesame breath, as you might say, inciting Gussie Fink-Nottle to be a bloton the London scene in scarlet tights. Ironical, what? One looks askanceat this sort of in-and-out running.

"What has he got against Pierrots?"

"I don't think he objects to Pierrots as Pierrots. But in my case hethought a Pierrot wouldn't be adequate."

"I don't follow that."

"He said that the costume of Pierrot, while pleasing to the eye, lackedthe authority of the Mephistopheles costume."

"I still don't get it."

"Well, it's a matter of psychology, he said."

There was a time when a remark like that would have had me snookered. Butlong association with Jeeves has developed the Wooster vocabularyconsiderably. Jeeves has always been a whale for the psychology of theindividual, and I now follow him like a bloodhound when he snaps it outof the bag.

"Oh, psychology?"

"Yes. Jeeves is a great believer in the moral effect of clothes. Hethinks I might be emboldened in a striking costume like this. He said aPirate Chief would be just as good. In fact, a Pirate Chief was his firstsuggestion, but I objected to the boots."

I saw his point. There is enough sadness in life without having fellowslike Gussie Fink-Nottle going about in sea boots.

"And are you emboldened?"

"Well, to be absolutely accurate, Bertie, old man, no."

A gust of compassion shook me. After all, though we had lost touch a bitof recent years, this man and I had once thrown inked darts at eachother.

"Gussie," I said, "take an old friend's advice, and don't go within amile of this binge."

"But it's my last chance of seeing her. She's off tomorrow to stay withsome people in the country. Besides, you don't know."

"Don't know what?"

"That this idea of Jeeves's won't work. I feel a most frightful chumpnow, yes, but who can say whether that will not pass off when I get intoa mob of other people in fancy dress. I had the same experience as achild, one year during the Christmas festivities. They dressed me up as arabbit, and the shame was indescribable. Yet when I got to the party andfound myself surrounded by scores of other children, many in costumeseven ghastlier than my own, I perked up amazingly, joined freely in therevels, and was able to eat so hearty a supper that I was sick twice inthe cab coming home. What I mean is, you can't tell in cold blood."

I weighed this. It was specious, of course.

"And you can't get away from it that, fundamentally, Jeeves's idea issound. In a striking costume like Mephistopheles, I might quite easilypull off something pretty impressive. Colour does make a difference. Lookat newts. During the courting season the male newt is brilliantlycoloured. It helps him a lot."

"But you aren't a male newt."

"I wish I were. Do you know how a male newt proposes, Bertie? He juststands in front of the female newt vibrating his tail and bending hisbody in a semi-circle. I could do that on my head. No, you wouldn't findme grousing if I were a male newt."

"But if you were a male newt, Madeline Bassett wouldn't look at you. Notwith the eye of love, I mean."

"She would, if she were a female newt."

"But she isn't a female newt."

"No, but suppose she was."

"Well, if she was, you wouldn't be in love with her."

"Yes, I would, if I were a male newt."

A slight throbbing about the temples told me that this discussion hadreached saturation point.

"Well, anyway," I said, "coming down to hard facts and cutting out allthis visionary stuff about vibrating tails and what not, the salientpoint that emerges is that you are booked to appear at a fancy-dressball. And I tell you out of my riper knowledge of fancy-dress balls,Gussie, that you won't enjoy yourself."

And giving me the sort of weak smile Roman gladiators used to give theEmperor before entering the arena, Gussie trickled off. And I turned toJeeves. The moment had arrived for putting him in his place, and I wasall for it.

It was a little difficult to know how to begin, of course. I mean to say,while firmly resolved to tick him off, I didn't want to gash his feelingstoo deeply. Even when displaying the iron hand, we Woosters like to keepthe thing fairly matey.

However, on consideration, I saw that there was nothing to be gained bytrying to lead up to it gently. It is never any use beating about the b.

"Jeeves," I said, "may I speak frankly?"

"Certainly, sir."

"What I have to say may wound you."

"Not at all, sir."

"Well, then, I have been having a chat with Mr. Fink-Nottle, and he hasbeen telling me about this Mephistopheles scheme of yours."

"Yes, sir?"

"Now let me get it straight. If I follow your reasoning correctly, youthink that, stimulated by being upholstered throughout in scarlet tights,Mr. Fink-Nottle, on encountering the adored object, will vibrate his tailand generally let himself go with a whoop."

"I am of opinion that he will lose much of his normal diffidence, sir."

"I don't agree with you, Jeeves."

"No, sir?"

"No. In fact, not to put too fine a point upon it, I consider that of allthe dashed silly, drivelling ideas I ever heard in my puff this is themost blithering and futile. It won't work. Not a chance. All you havedone is to subject Mr. Fink-Nottle to the nameless horrors of afancy-dress ball for nothing. And this is not the first time this sortof thing has happened. To be quite candid, Jeeves, I have frequentlynoticed before now a tendency or disposition on your part tobecome--what's the word?"

"That is the exact word I was after. Too elaborate, Jeeves--that is whatyou are frequently prone to become. Your methods are not simple, notstraightforward. You cloud the issue with a lot of fancy stuff that isnot of the essence. All that Gussie needs is the elder-brotherly adviceof a seasoned man of the world. So what I suggest is that from now onwardyou leave this case to me."

"Very good, sir."

"You lay off and devote yourself to your duties about the home."

"Very good, sir."

"I shall no doubt think of something quite simple and straightforward yetperfectly effective ere long. I will make a point of seeing Gussietomorrow."

"Very good, sir."

"Right ho, Jeeves."

But on the morrow all those telegrams started coming in, and I confessthat for twenty-four hours I didn't give the poor chap a thought, havingproblems of my own to contend with.

-3-

The first of the telegram arrived shortly after noon, and Jeeves broughtit in with the before-luncheon snifter. It was from my Aunt Dahlia,operating from Market Snodsbury, a small town of sorts a mile or twoalong the main road as you leave her country seat.

It ran as follows:

_Come at once. Travers._

And when I say it puzzled me like the dickens, I am understating it; ifanything. As mysterious a communication, I considered, as was everflashed over the wires. I studied it in a profound reverie for the bestpart of two dry Martinis and a dividend. I read it backwards. I read itforwards. As a matter of fact, I have a sort of recollection of evensmelling it. But it still baffled me.

Consider the facts, I mean. It was only a few hours since this aunt and Ihad parted, after being in constant association for nearly two months.And yet here she was--with my farewell kiss still lingering on her cheek,so to speak--pleading for another reunion. Bertram Wooster is notaccustomed to this gluttonous appetite for his society. Ask anyone whoknows me, and they will tell you that after two months of my company,what the normal person feels is that that will about do for the present.Indeed, I have known people who couldn't stick it out for more than a fewdays.

Before sitting down to the well-cooked, therefore, I sent this reply:

_Perplexed. Explain. Bertie._

To this I received an answer during the after-luncheon sleep:

_What on earth is there to be perplexed about, ass? Come at once.Travers._

Three cigarettes and a couple of turns about the room, and I had myresponse ready:

_How do you mean come at once? Regards. Bertie._

I append the comeback:

_I mean come at once, you maddening half-wit. What did you think I meant?Come at once or expect an aunt's curse first post tomorrow. Love.Travers._

I then dispatched the following message, wishing to get everything quiteclear:

_When you say "Come" do you mean "Come to Brinkley Court"? And when yousay "At once" do you mean "At once"? Fogged. At a loss. All the best.Bertie._

I sent this one off on my way to the Drones, where I spent a restfulafternoon throwing cards into a top-hat with some of the better element.Returning in the evening hush, I found the answer waiting for me:

_Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. It doesn't matter whether youunderstand or not. You just come at once, as I tell you, and for heaven'ssake stop this back-chat. Do you think I am made of money that I canafford to send you telegrams every ten minutes. Stop being a fathead andcome immediately. Love. Travers._

It was at this point that I felt the need of getting a second opinion. Ipressed the bell.

"Jeeves," I said, "a V-shaped rumminess has manifested itself from thedirection of Worcestershire. Read these," I said, handing him the papersin the case.

He scanned them.

"What do you make of it, Jeeves?"

"I think Mrs. Travers wishes you to come at once, sir."

"You gather that too, do you?"

"Yes, sir."

"I put the same construction on the thing. But why, Jeeves? Dash it all,she's just had nearly two months of me."

"Yes, sir."

"And many people consider the medium dose for an adult two days."

"Yes, sir. I appreciate the point you raise. Nevertheless, Mrs. Traversappears very insistent. I think it would be well to acquiesce in herwishes."

There was a slight pause. We were both recalling the littleunpleasantness that had arisen. I felt obliged to allude to it.

"You're all wrong about that mess jacket, Jeeves."

"These things are matters of opinion, sir."

"When I wore it at the Casino at Cannes, beautiful women nudged oneanother and whispered: 'Who is he?'"

"The code at Continental casinos is notoriously lax, sir."

"And when I described it to Pongo last night, he was fascinated."

"Indeed, sir?"

"So were all the rest of those present. One and all admitted that I hadgot hold of a good thing. Not a dissentient voice."

"Indeed, sir?"

"I am convinced that you will eventually learn to love this mess-jacket,Jeeves."

"I fear not, sir."

I gave it up. It is never any use trying to reason with Jeeves on theseoccasions. "Pig-headed" is the word that springs to the lips. One sighsand passes on.

"Well, anyway, returning to the agenda, I can't go down to Brinkley Courtor anywhere else yet awhile. That's final. I'll tell you what, Jeeves.Give me form and pencil, and I'll wire her that I'll be with her sometime next week or the week after. Dash it all, she ought to be able tohold out without me for a few days. It only requires will power."

"Yes, sir."

"Right ho, then. I'll wire 'Expect me tomorrow fortnight' or words tosome such effect. That ought to meet the case. Then if you will toddleround the corner and send it off, that will be that."

"Very good, sir."

And so the long day wore on till it was time for me to dress for Pongo'sparty.

Pongo had assured me, while chatting of the affair on the previous night,that this birthday binge of his was to be on a scale calculated tostagger humanity, and I must say I have participated in less fruityfunctions. It was well after four when I got home, and by that time I wasabout ready to turn in. I can just remember groping for the bed andcrawling into it, and it seemed to me that the lemon had scarcely touchedthe pillow before I was aroused by the sound of the door opening.

I was barely ticking over, but I contrived to raise an eyelid.

"Is that my tea, Jeeves?"

"No, sir. It is Mrs. Travers."

And a moment later there was a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and therelative had crossed the threshold at fifty m.p.h. under her own steam.

-4-

It has been well said of Bertram Wooster that, while no one views hisflesh and blood with a keener and more remorselessly critical eye, he isnevertheless a man who delights in giving credit where credit is due. Andif you have followed these memoirs of mine with the proper care, you willbe aware that I have frequently had occasion to emphasise the fact thatAunt Dahlia is all right.

She is the one, if you remember, who married old Tom Travers _en secondesnoces_, as I believe the expression is, the year Bluebottle won theCambridgeshire, and once induced me to write an article on What theWell-Dressed Man is Wearing for that paper she runs--_Milady's Boudoir_.She is a large, genial soul, with whom it is a pleasure to hob-nob. In herspiritual make-up there is none of that subtle gosh-awfulness whichrenders such an exhibit as, say, my Aunt Agatha the curse of the HomeCounties and a menace to one and all. I have the highest esteem for AuntDahlia, and have never wavered in my cordial appreciation of herhumanity, sporting qualities and general good-eggishness.

This being so, you may conceive of my astonishment at finding her at mybedside at such an hour. I mean to say, I've stayed at her place many atime and oft, and she knows my habits. She is well aware that until Ihave had my cup of tea in the morning, I do not receive. This crashing inat a moment when she knew that solitude and repose were of the essencewas scarcely, I could not but feel, the good old form.

Besides, what business had she being in London at all? That was what Iasked myself. When a conscientious housewife has returned to her homeafter an absence of seven weeks, one does not expect her to start racingoff again the day after her arrival. One feels that she ought to besticking round, ministering to her husband, conferring with the cook,feeding the cat, combing and brushing the Pomeranian--in a word, stayingput. I was more than a little bleary-eyed, but I endeavoured, as far asthe fact that my eyelids were more or less glued together would permit,to give her an austere and censorious look.

She didn't seem to get it.

"Wake up, Bertie, you old ass!" she cried, in a voice that hit me betweenthe eyebrows and went out at the back of my head.

If Aunt Dahlia has a fault, it is that she is apt to address a _vis-a-vis_as if he were somebody half a mile away whom she had observed ridingover hounds. A throwback, no doubt, to the time when she counted the daylost that was not spent in chivvying some unfortunate fox over thecountryside.

I gave her another of the austere and censorious, and this time itregistered. All the effect it had, however, was to cause her to descendto personalities.

"Don't blink at me in that obscene way," she said. "I wonder, Bertie,"she proceeded, gazing at me as I should imagine Gussie would have gazedat some newt that was not up to sample, "if you have the faintestconception how perfectly loathsome you look? A cross between an orgyscene in the movies and some low form of pond life. I suppose you wereout on the tiles last night?"

I turned on the pillow with a little moan, and at this juncture Jeevesentered with the vital oolong. I clutched at it like a drowning man at astraw hat. A deep sip or two, and I felt--I won't say restored, because abirthday party like Pongo Twistleton's isn't a thing you get restoredafter with a mere mouthful of tea, but sufficiently the old Bertram to beable to bend the mind on this awful thing which had come upon me.

And the more I bent same, the less could I grasp the trend of thescenario.

"What is this, Aunt Dahlia?" I inquired.

"It looks to me like tea," was her response. "But you know best. You'redrinking it."

If I hadn't been afraid of spilling the healing brew, I have little doubtthat I should have given an impatient gesture. I know I felt like it.

"Not the contents of this cup. All this. Your barging in and telling meto get up and dress, and all that rot."

"I've barged in, as you call it, because my telegrams seemed to produceno effect. And I told you to get up and dress because I want you to getup and dress. I've come to take you back with me. I like your crust,wiring that you would come next year or whenever it was. You're comingnow. I've got a job for you."

"But I don't want a job."

"What you want, my lad, and what you're going to get are two verydifferent things. There is man's work for you to do at Brinkley Court. Beready to the last button in twenty minutes."

"But I can't possibly be ready to any buttons in twenty minutes. I'mfeeling awful."

She seemed to consider.

"Yes," she said. "I suppose it's only humane to give you a day or two torecover. All right, then, I shall expect you on the thirtieth at thelatest."

"But, dash it, what is all this? How do you mean, a job? Why a job? Whatsort of a job?"

"I'll tell you if you'll only stop talking for a minute. It's quite aneasy, pleasant job. You will enjoy it. Have you ever hard of MarketSnodsbury Grammar School?"

"Never."

"It's a grammar school at Market Snodsbury."

I told her a little frigidly that I had divined as much.

"Well, how was I to know that a man with a mind like yours would grasp itso quickly?" she protested. "All right, then. Market Snodsbury GrammarSchool is, as you have guessed, the grammar school at Market Snodsbury.I'm one of the governors."

"You mean one of the governesses."

"I don't mean one of the governesses. Listen, ass. There was a board ofgovernors at Eton, wasn't there? Very well. So there is at MarketSnodsbury Grammar School, and I'm a member of it. And they left thearrangements for the summer prize-giving to me. This prize-giving takesplace on the last--or thirty-first--day of this month. Have you got thatclear?"

I took another oz. of the life-saving and inclined my head. Even after aPongo Twistleton birthday party, I was capable of grasping simple factslike these.

"I follow you, yes. I see the point you are trying to make, certainly.Market ... Snodsbury ... Grammar School ... Board of governors ...Prize-giving.... Quite. But what's it got to do with me?"

"You're going to give away the prizes."

I goggled. Her words did not appear to make sense. They seemed the mereaimless vapouring of an aunt who has been sitting out in the sun withouta hat.

"Me?"

"You."

I goggled again.

"You don't mean me?"

"I mean you in person."

I goggled a third time.

"You're pulling my leg."

"I am not pulling your leg. Nothing would induce me to touch your beastlyleg. The vicar was to have officiated, but when I got home I found aletter from him saying that he had strained a fetlock and must scratchhis nomination. You can imagine the state I was in. I telephoned all overthe place. Nobody would take it on. And then suddenly I thought of you."

I decided to check all this rot at the outset. Nobody is more eager tooblige deserving aunts than Bertram Wooster, but there are limits, andsharply denned limits, at that.

"You will do it, young Bertie, or never darken my doors again. And youknow what that means. No more of Anatole's dinners for you."

A strong shudder shook me. She was alluding to her _chef_, that superbartist. A monarch of his profession, unsurpassed--nay, unequalled--atdishing up the raw material so that it melted in the mouth of theultimate consumer, Anatole had always been a magnet that drew me toBrinkley Court with my tongue hanging out. Many of my happiest momentshad been those which I had spent champing this great man's roasts andragouts, and the prospect of being barred from digging into them in thefuture was a numbing one.

"No, I say, dash it!"

"I thought that would rattle you. Greedy young pig."

"Greedy young pigs have nothing to do with it," I said with a touch ofhauteur. "One is not a greedy young pig because one appreciates thecooking of a genius."

"Well, I will say I like it myself," conceded the relative. "But notanother bite of it do you get, if you refuse to do this simple, easy,pleasant job. No, not so much as another sniff. So put that in yourtwelve-inch cigarette-holder and smoke it."

I began to feel like some wild thing caught in a snare.

"But why do you want me? I mean, what am I? Ask yourself that."

"I often have."

"I mean to say, I'm not the type. You have to have some terrific nib togive away prizes. I seem to remember, when I was at school, it wasgenerally a prime minister or somebody."

"Ah, but that was at Eton. At Market Snodsbury we aren't nearly sochoosy. Anybody in spats impresses us."

"Why don't you get Uncle Tom?"

"Uncle Tom!"

"Well, why not? He's got spats."

"Bertie," she said, "I will tell you why not Uncle Tom. You remember melosing all that money at baccarat at Cannes? Well, very shortly I shallhave to sidle up to Tom and break the news to him. If, right after that,I ask him to put on lavender gloves and a topper and distribute theprizes at Market Snodsbury Grammar School, there will be a divorce in thefamily. He would pin a note to the pincushion and be off like a rabbit.No, my lad, you're for it, so you may as well make the best of it."

"But, Aunt Dahlia, listen to reason. I assure you, you've got hold of thewrong man. I'm hopeless at a game like that. Ask Jeeves about the time Igot lugged in to address a girls' school. I made the most colossal ass ofmyself."

"And I confidently anticipate that you will make an equally colossal assof yourself on the thirty-first of this month. That's why I want you. Theway I look at it is that, as the thing is bound to be a frost, anyway,one may as well get a hearty laugh out of it. I shall enjoy seeing youdistribute those prizes, Bertie. Well, I won't keep you, as, no doubt,you want to do your Swedish exercises. I shall expect you in a day ortwo."

And with these heartless words she beetled off, leaving me a prey to thegloomiest emotions. What with the natural reaction after Pongo's partyand this stunning blow, it is not too much to say that the soul wasseared.

And I was still writhing in the depths, when the door opened and Jeevesappeared.

"Mr. Fink-Nottle to see you, sir," he announced.

-5-

I gave him one of my looks.

"Jeeves," I said, "I had scarcely expected this of you. You are awarethat I was up to an advanced hour last night. You know that I have barelyhad my tea. You cannot be ignorant of the effect of that hearty voice ofAunt Dahlia's on a man with a headache. And yet you come bringing meFink-Nottles. Is this a time for Fink or any other kind of Nottle?"

"But did you not give me to understand, sir, that you wished to see Mr.Fink-Nottle to advise him on his affairs?"

This, I admit, opened up a new line of thought. In the stress of myemotions, I had clean forgotten about having taken Gussie's interests inhand. It altered things. One can't give the raspberry to a client. Imean, you didn't find Sherlock Holmes refusing to see clients justbecause he had been out late the night before at Doctor Watson's birthdayparty. I could have wished that the man had selected some more suitablehour for approaching me, but as he appeared to be a sort of human lark,leaving his watery nest at daybreak, I supposed I had better give him anaudience.

"True," I said. "All right. Bung him in."

"Very good, sir."

"But before doing so, bring me one of those pick-me-ups of yours."

"Very good, sir."

And presently he returned with the vital essence.

I have had occasion, I fancy, to speak before now of these pick-me-ups ofJeeves's and their effect on a fellow who is hanging to life by a threadon the morning after. What they consist of, I couldn't tell you. He sayssome kind of sauce, the yolk of a raw egg and a dash of red pepper, butnothing will convince me that the thing doesn't go much deeper than that.Be that as it may, however, the results of swallowing one are amazing.

For perhaps the split part of a second nothing happens. It is as thoughall Nature waited breathless. Then, suddenly, it is as if the Last Trumphad sounded and Judgment Day set in with unusual severity.

Bonfires burst out all in parts of the frame. The abdomen becomes heavilycharged with molten lava. A great wind seems to blow through the world,and the subject is aware of something resembling a steam hammer strikingthe back of the head. During this phase, the ears ring loudly, theeyeballs rotate and there is a tingling about the brow.

And then, just as you are feeling that you ought to ring up your lawyerand see that your affairs are in order before it is too late, the wholesituation seems to clarify. The wind drops. The ears cease to ring. Birdstwitter. Brass bands start playing. The sun comes up over the horizonwith a jerk.

And a moment later all you are conscious of is a great peace.

As I drained the glass now, new life seemed to burgeon within me. Iremember Jeeves, who, however much he may go off the rails at times inthe matter of dress clothes and in his advice to those in love, hasalways had a neat turn of phrase, once speaking of someone rising onstepping-stones of his dead self to higher things. It was that way withme now. I felt that the Bertram Wooster who lay propped up against thepillows had become a better, stronger, finer Bertram.

"Thank you, Jeeves," I said.

"Not at all, sir."

"That touched the exact spot. I am now able to cope with life'sproblems."

"I am gratified to hear it, sir."

"What madness not to have had one of those before tackling Aunt Dahlia!However, too late to worry about that now. Tell me of Gussie. How did hemake out at the fancy-dress ball?"

"He did not arrive at the fancy-dress ball, sir."

I looked at him a bit austerely.

"Jeeves," I said, "I admit that after that pick-me-up of yours I feelbetter, but don't try me too high. Don't stand by my sick bed talkingabsolute rot. We shot Gussie into a cab and he started forth, headed forwherever this fancy-dress ball was. He must have arrived."

"No, sir. As I gather from Mr. Fink-Nottle, he entered the cab convincedin his mind that the entertainment to which he had been invited was to beheld at No. 17, Suffolk Square, whereas the actual rendezvous was No. 71,Norfolk Terrace. These aberrations of memory are not uncommon with thosewho, like Mr. Fink-Nottle, belong essentially to what one might call thedreamer-type."

"The fact that he had no money, sir. He discovered that he had left it,together with his ticket of invitation, on the mantelpiece of hisbedchamber in the house of his uncle, where he was residing. Bidding thecabman to wait, accordingly, he rang the door-bell, and when the butlerappeared, requested him to pay the cab, adding that it was all right, ashe was one of the guests invited to the dance. The butler then disclaimedall knowledge of a dance on the premises."

"And declined to unbelt?"

"Yes, sir."

"Upon which----"

"Mr. Fink-Nottle directed the cabman to drive him back to his uncle'sresidence."

"Well, why wasn't that the happy ending? All he had to do was go in,collect cash and ticket, and there he would have been, on velvet."

"I should have mentioned, sir, that Mr. Fink-Nottle had also left hislatchkey on the mantelpiece of his bedchamber."

"He could have rung the bell."

"He did ring the bell, sir, for some fifteen minutes. At the expirationof that period he recalled that he had given permission to thecaretaker--the house was officially closed and all the staff onholiday--to visitchis sailor son at Portsmouth."

"Golly, Jeeves!"

"Yes, sir."

"These dreamer types do live, don't they?"

"Yes, sir."

"What happened then?"

"Mr. Fink-Nottle appears to have realized at this point that his positionas regards the cabman had become equivocal. The figures on the clock hadalready reached a substantial sum, and he was not in a position to meethis obligations."

"He could have explained."

"You cannot explain to cabmen, sir. On endeavouring to do so, he foundthe fellow sceptical of his bona fides."

"I should have legged it."

"That is the policy which appears to have commended itself to Mr.Fink-Nottle. He darted rapidly away, and the cabman, endeavouring to detainhim, snatched at his overcoat. Mr. Fink-Nottle contrived to extricatehimself from the coat, and it would seem that his appearance in themasquerade costume beneath it came as something of a shock to the cabman.Mr. Fink-Nottle informs me that he heard a species of whistling gasp,and, looking round, observed the man crouching against the railings withhis hands over his face. Mr. Fink-Nottle thinks he was praying. No doubtan uneducated, superstitious fellow, sir. Possibly a drinker."

"Well, if he hadn't been one before, I'll bet he started being oneshortly afterwards. I expect he could scarcely wait for the pubs toopen."

"Very possibly, in the circumstances he might have found a restorativeagreeable, sir."

"And so, in the circumstances, might Gussie too, I should think. What onearth did he do after that? London late at night--or even in the daytime,for that matter--is no place for a man in scarlet tights."

"No, sir."

"He invites comment."

"Yes, sir."

"I can see the poor old bird ducking down side-streets, skulking inalley-ways, diving into dust-bins."

"I gathered from Mr. Fink-Nottle's remarks, sir, that something very muchon those lines was what occurred. Eventually, after a trying night, hefound his way to Mr. Sipperley's residence, where he was able to securelodging and a change of costume in the morning."

I nestled against the pillows, the brow a bit drawn. It is all very wellto try to do old school friends a spot of good, but I could not but feelthat in enspousig the cause of a lunkhead capable of mucking things up asGussie had done, I had taken on a contract almost too big for humanconsumption. It seemed to me that what Gussie needed was not so much theadvice of a seasoned man of the world as a padded cell in Colney Hatchand a couple of good keepers to see that he did not set the place onfire.

Indeed, for an instant I had half a mind to withdraw from the case andhand it back to Jeeves. But the pride of the Woosters restrained me. Whenwe Woosters put our hands to the plough, we do not readily sheathe thesword. Besides, after that business of the mess-jacket, anythingresembling weakness would have been fatal.

"I suppose you realize, Jeeves," I said, for though one dislikes to rubit in, these things have to be pointed out, "that all this was yourfault?"

"Sir?"

"It's no good saying 'Sir?' You know it was. If you had not insisted onhis going to that dance--a mad project, as I spotted from the first--thiswould not have happened."

"Yes, sir, but I confess I did not anticipate----"

"Always anticipate everything, Jeeves," I said, a little sternly. "It isthe only way. Even if you had allowed him to wear a Pierrot costume,things would not have panned out as they did. A Pierrot costume haspockets. However," I went on more kindly, "we need not go into that now.If all this has shown you what comes of going about the place in scarlettights, that is something gained. Gussie waits without, you say?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then shoot him in, and I will see what I can do for him."

-6-

Gussie, on arrival, proved to be still showing traces of his grimexperience. The face was pale, the eyes gooseberry-like, the earsdrooping, and the whole aspect that of a man who has passed through thefurnace and been caught in the machinery. I hitched myself up a bithigher on the pillows and gazed at him narrowly. It was a moment, I couldsee, when first aid was required, and I prepared to get down to cases.

"Well, Gussie."

"Hullo, Bertie."

"What ho."

"What ho."

These civilities concluded, I felt that the moment had come to touchdelicately on the past.

"I hear you've been through it a bit."

"Yes."

"Thanks to Jeeves."

"It wasn't Jeeves's fault."

"Entirely Jeeves's fault."

"I don't see that. I forgot my money and latchkey----"

"And now you'd better forget Jeeves. For you will be interested to hear,Gussie," I said, deeming it best to put him in touch with the position ofaffairs right away, "that he is no longer handling your little problem."

This seemed to slip it across him properly. The jaws fell, the earsdrooped more limply. He had been looking like a dead fish. He now lookedlike a deader fish, one of last year's, cast up on some lonely beach andleft there at the mercy of the wind and tides.

"What!"

"Yes."

"You don't mean that Jeeves isn't going to----"

"No."

"But, dash it----"

I was kind, but firm.

"You will be much better off without him. Surely your terribleexperiences of that awful night have told you that Jeeves needs a rest.The keenest of thinkers strikes a bad patch occasionally. That is whathas happened to Jeeves. I have seen it coming on for some time. He haslost his form. He wants his plugs decarbonized. No doubt this is a shockto you. I suppose you came here this morning to seek his advice?"

"Of course I did."

"On what point?"

"Madeline Bassett has gone to stay with these people in the country, andI want to know what he thinks I ought to do."

"Well, as I say, Jeeves is off the case."

"But, Bertie, dash it----"

"Jeeves," I said with a certain asperity, "is no longer on the case. I amnow in sole charge."

"But what on earth can you do?"

I curbed my resentment. We Woosters are fair-minded. We can makeallowances for men who have been parading London all night in scarlettights.

"That," I said quietly, "we shall see. Sit down and let us confer. I ambound to say the thing seems quite simple to me. You say this girl hasgone to visit friends in the country. It would appear obvious that youmust go there too, and flock round her like a poultice. Elementary."

"But I can't plant myself on a lot of perfect strangers."

"Don't you know these people?"

"Of course I don't. I don't know anybody."

I pursed the lips. This did seem to complicate matters somewhat.

"All that I know is that their name is Travers, and it's a place calledBrinkley Court down in Worcestershire."

I unpursed my lips.

"Gussie," I said, smiling paternally, "it was a lucky day for you whenBertram Wooster interested himself in your affairs. As I foresaw from thestart, I can fix everything. This afternoon you shall go to BrinkleyCourt, an honoured guest."

He quivered like a _mousse_. I suppose it must always be rather athrilling experience for the novice to watch me taking hold.

"But, Bertie, you don't mean you know these Traverses?"

"They are my Aunt Dahlia."

"My gosh!"

"You see now," I pointed out, "how lucky you were to get me behind you.You go to Jeeves, and what does he do? He dresses you up in scarlettights and one of the foulest false beards of my experience, and sendsyou off to fancy-dress balls. Result, agony of spirit and no progress. Ithen take over and put you on the right lines. Could Jeeves have got youinto Brinkley Court? Not a chance. Aunt Dahlia isn't his aunt. I merelymention these things."

"By Jove, Bertie, I don't know how to thank you."

"My dear chap!"

"But, I say."

"Now what?"

"What do I do when I get there?"

"If you knew Brinkley Court, you would not ask that question. In thoseromantic surroundings you can't miss. Great lovers through the ages havefixed up the preliminary formalities at Brinkley. The place is simply illwith atmosphere. You will stroll with the girl in the shady walks. Youwill sit with her on the shady lawns. You will row on the lake with her.And gradually you will find yourself working up to a point where----"

"By Jove, I believe you're right."

"Of course, I'm right. I've got engaged three times at Brinkley. Nobusiness resulted, but the fact remains. And I went there without thefoggiest idea of indulging in the tender pash. I hadn't the slightestintention of proposing to anybody. Yet no sooner had I entered thoseromantic grounds than I found myself reaching out for the nearest girl insight and slapping my soul down in front of her. It's something in theair."

"I see exactly what you mean. That's just what I want to be able todo--work up to it. And in London--curse the place--everything's in such arush that you don't get a chance."

"Quite. You see a girl alone for about five minutes a day, and if youwant to ask her to be your wife, you've got to charge into it as if youwere trying to grab the gold ring on a merry-go-round."

"That's right. London rattles one. I shall be a different man altogetherin the country. What a bit of luck this Travers woman turning out to beyour aunt."

"I don't know what you mean, turning out to be my aunt. She has been myaunt all along."

"I mean, how extraordinary that it should be your aunt that Madeline'sgoing to stay with."

"Not at all. She and my Cousin Angela are close friends. At Cannes shewas with us all the time."

"Oh, you met Madeline at Cannes, did you? By Jove, Bertie," said the poorlizard devoutly, "I wish I could have seen her at Cannes. How wonderfulshe must have looked in beach pyjamas! Oh, Bertie----"

"Quite," I said, a little distantly. Even when restored by one ofJeeves's depth bombs, one doesn't want this sort of thing after a hardnight. I touched the bell and, when Jeeves appeared, requested him tobring me telegraph form and pencil. I then wrote a well-wordedcommunication to Aunt Dahlia, informing her that I was sending my friend,Augustus Fink-Nottle, down to Brinkley today to enjoy her hospitality,and handed it to Gussie.

"Push that in at the first post office you pass," I said. "She will findit waiting for her on her return."

Gussie popped along, flapping the telegram and looking like a close-up ofJoan Crawford, and I turned to Jeeves and gave him a precis of myoperations.

"This is the attack as it should have been delivered. What do you call itwhen two people of opposite sexes are bunged together in closeassociation in a secluded spot, meeting each other every day and seeing alot of each other?"

"Is 'propinquity' the word you wish, sir?"

"It is. I stake everything on propinquity, Jeeves. Propinquity, in myopinion, is what will do the trick. At the moment, as you are aware,Gussie is a mere jelly when in the presence. But ask yourself how he willfeel in a week or so, after he and she have been helping themselves tosausages out of the same dish day after day at the breakfast sideboard.Cutting the same ham, ladling out communal kidneys and bacon--why----"

I broke off abruptly. I had had one of my ideas.

"Golly, Jeeves!"

"Sir?"

"Here's an instance of how you have to think of everything. You heard memention sausages, kidneys and bacon and ham."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, there must be nothing of that. Fatal. The wrong note entirely.Give me that telegraph form and pencil. I must warn Gussie without delay.What he's got to do is to create in this girl's mind the impression thathe is pining away for love of her. This cannot be done by wolfingsausages."

"No, sir."

"Very well, then."

And, taking form and _p._, I drafted the following:

_Fink-Nottle

Brinkley Court,

Market Snodsbury

Worcestershire

Lay off the sausages. Avoid the ham. Bertie._

"Send that off, Jeeves, instanter."

"Very good, sir."

I sank back on the pillows.

"Well, Jeeves," I said, "you see how I am taking hold. You notice thegrip I am getting on this case. No doubt you realize now that it wouldpay you to study my methods."

"No doubt, sir."

"And even now you aren't on to the full depths of the extraordinarysagacity I've shown. Do you know what brought Aunt Dahlia up here thismorning? She came to tell me I'd got to distribute the prizes at somebeastly seminary she's a governor of down at Market Snodsbury."

"Indeed, sir? I fear you will scarcely find that a congenial task."

"Ah, but I'm not going to do it. I'm going to shove it off on to Gussie."

"Sir?"

"I propose, Jeeves, to wire to Aunt Dahlia saying that I can't get down,and suggesting that she unleashes him on these young Borstal inmates ofhers in my stead."

"But if Mr. Fink-Nottle should decline, sir?"

"Decline? Can you see him declining? Just conjure up the picture in yourmind, Jeeves. Scene, the drawing-room at Brinkley; Gussie wedged into acorner, with Aunt Dahlia standing over him making hunting noises. I putit to you, Jeeves, can you see him declining?"

"Not readily, sir. I agree. Mrs. Travers is a forceful personality."

"He won't have a hope of declining. His only way out would be to slideoff. And he can't slide off, because he wants to be with Miss Bassett.No, Gussie will have to toe the line, and I shall be saved from a job atwhich I confess the soul shuddered. Getting up on a platform anddelivering a short, manly speech to a lot of foul school-kids! Golly,Jeeves. I've been through that sort of thing once, what? You rememberthat time at the girls' school?"

"Very vividly, sir."

"What an ass I made of myself!"

"Certainly I have seen you to better advantage, sir."

"I think you might bring me just one more of those dynamite specials ofyours, Jeeves. This narrow squeak has made me come over all faint."

I suppose it must have taken Aunt Dahlia three hours or so to get back toBrinkley, because it wasn't till well after lunch that her telegramarrived. It read like a telegram that had been dispatched in a white-hotsurge of emotion some two minutes after she had read mine.

As follows:

_Am taking legal advice to ascertain whether strangling an idiot nephewcounts as murder. If it doesn't look out for yourself. Consider yourconduct frozen limit. What do you mean by planting your loathsome friendson me like this? Do you think Brinkley Court is a leper colony or what isit? Who is this Spink-Bottle? Love. Travers._

I had expected some such initial reaction. I replied in temperate vein:

_Not Bottle. Nottle. Regards. Bertie._

Almost immediately after she had dispatched the above heart cry, Gussiemust have arrived, for it wasn't twenty minutes later when I received thefollowing:

_Cipher telegram signed by you has reached me here. Runs "Lay off thesausages. Avoid the ham." Wire key immediately. Fink-Nottle._

I replied:

_Also kidneys. Cheerio. Bertie._

I had staked all on Gussie making a favourable impression on his hostess,basing my confidence on the fact that he was one of those timid,obsequious, teacup-passing, thin-bread-and-butter-offering yes-men whomwomen of my Aunt Dahlia's type nearly always like at first sight. That Ihad not overrated my acumen was proved by her next in order, which, I waspleased to note, assayed a markedly larger percentage of the milk ofhuman kindness.

As follows:

_Well, this friend of yours has got here, and I must say that for afriend of yours he seems less sub-human than I had expected. A bit of apop-eyed bleater, but on the whole clean and civil, and certainly mostinformative about newts. Am considering arranging series of lectures forhim in neighbourhood. All the same I like your nerve using my house as asummer-hotel resort and shall have much to say to you on subject when youcome down. Expect you thirtieth. Bring spats. Love. Travers._

_Oh, so it's like that, is it? You and your engagement book, indeed.Deeply regret my foot. Let me tell you, my lad, that you will regret it ajolly sight more deeply if you don't come down. If you imagine for one